


hyacinthus

by tamaslin



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, a conversation between molly and yasha about monks and forgiveness, anyway this is sad, ashley johnson's playlist got me 17 different kinds of fucked up, can't wait until he gets back from vacation, mollyasha platonic soulmates 4 life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 07:04:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17421281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamaslin/pseuds/tamaslin
Summary: yasha asks a question. mollymauk doesn't have the answers but he helps how he can.or, "i had 'fire under water' on repeat writing this"





	hyacinthus

**Author's Note:**

> spoilers for ep. 46 
> 
> purple hyacinth: i am sorry. please forgive me.  
> blue hyacinth: sincerity

"Do you think she would forgive me?"

They're far enough away from the rest of the group that Yasha knows her words are only for Mollymauk to hear, though at first the tiefling doesn't react. Red eyes stay tracing the backs of their companions and she wonders what he's thinking. If he's thinking anything at all. She doesn't expect an answer after the first few seconds stretch into longer silence. Yasha shifts. Comfortable with silence, but not with Molly's silence.

"Forgive what?" he asks at last and she feels the question dig into her skin. Into the space between her ribs and sometimes he makes her want to scream. She swallows the flash of anger. The reminder that she's a different woman than the one that crossed the mountains months ago.

"Forgive... me. For..."

There she catches the quick curve of Mollymauk's smirk and she thinks she _may_ scream this time. "You already know for what."

"Indulge me, dear."

"This." Her hand goes to her chest where her heart is so frighteningly live. Where it beats against her chest and all she can think to say is, ' _I'm sorry_.' It doesn't seem like enough. "Molly I really don't---"

"She's pretty. If you like someone with the personality of broken glass stuck to more broken glass stuck to a boot." He nods in the direction of their companions and the flash of blue that catches her eye. That's caught her eye since the circus. Since ' _can I sit in your arms?_ ' brought a smile to her face. And of course Mollymauk knows without her saying because that's what he does. At least with her. She could hate him for it. She loves him. He continues, "Maybe you could use a kick in the ass. Minus the glass, though."

"You didn't answer my question."

"You didn't answer mine."

"Molly..." her voice turns low.

"Yasha..." his matches in a teasing pitch.

"Could she?" Mollymauk doesn't have the answers. But he's been one of the certainties she can count on in the world so he has to know something. "I haven't forgotten her."

"Are you telling me, or you?" His hand settles on her shoulder. She wonders how his palm manages to outweigh gravity. "Or are you trying to tell her?"

"We mate for life. We marry for life. The fact that I'm---"

"You have too much heart, Yasha." Molly's words aren't unkind. Like his hand, they weigh too much. "That's the very opposite of a bad thing unless it's paired with black-and-white thinking. You were together for a life. Hers. And now what's left is yours."

' _Zuala was my life_ ,' she almost says but the words fall from her throat. Especially when she looks down at Molly and his easy smile. It wasn't the same kind of love but he'd found her heart in bits and pieces in the bottom of her soul and scraped it together. Like his coat, he patched her together with all he had. Despite the guilt (heavy as a hand. heavier than gravity) she lets that be enough. For now, she asks the guilt to quiet. Together for a life. Where did that leave her, then? She looks again for the flash of blue. Tan skin and loud voice. Glass on glass on a boot. Hopes that her staring isn't obvious but when Molly clicks his tongue she feels her ears go hot.

"You can collect flowers for the dead and still love the living," he says and when she opens her mouth he rushes on, "or admire from afar. Or enjoy the company of. You know what I mean."

Does she?

Beauregard’s laugh crashes through the air and it makes a smile cling to the corners of Yasha’s mouth. With it comes the guilt again and she sees Zuala’s smile. Every flower she’s collected for her grave back home and she wonders if she returned with a new love too --- with head bowed and bended knees. _Would she forgive me?_ She knows that the answer won’t come from Mollymauk.

“Do you love me, Yasha?”

_Oh._

His hand has left her shoulder and it’s replaced with the weight of his stare. When she looks to him, mismatched eyes connect with the fire of his. The confidence that comes with already knowing the answer. _Mollymauk_ should mean _magic_ for the tricks that he pulls. When her smile grows it doesn’t feel like a betrayal.

“I do.”

“And are you forgiven?”

Tears aren’t frequent for her. They stay reserved for the rain. For when the storm takes her in its arms and gives her shelter from all she’s ever been. But there’s safety in the lightning flash of Mollymauk’s soul. In the thunder of his heart. She finds her eyes misting over before she remembers to keep them in. _Are you forgiven_? She wants to tell him it’s not the same thing but her friend is just as much of her soul as her wife was. Is.

“Go on, charmer.” He gives her a shove that does little to move her. Again, Beauregard laughs like a clap of thunder. She hears Fjord groan in response. “Answer your questions.”

And she turns from him, steps hesitant towards the flash of blue.


End file.
